


Cursed

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Supernatural Drabbles [31]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cheating Boyfriend, F/M, Unlucky in everything, unlucky in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 05:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: Bad luck seems to follow you everywhere.





	Cursed

**Author's Note:**

> For one of my follower celebrations on Tumblr. 
> 
> Prompts: “It’s not what you think,” he said" and "an ex-boyfriend, a pair of binoculars, and a good-luck charm" and "in a bridal shop."

You stumbled backwards, tripping over the mannequin wearing the god-awful, bubblegum pink bridal gown. Tears filled your eyes as you took in the sight of your boyfriend -  _scratch that_  - ex-boyfriend, in a very compromising position with your (about to be) former best friend. The former best friend you’d decided to surprise by taking her out to lunch.

You hadn’t called after your last shoot of the day had canceled, freeing up your afternoon, you’d thought it would be fun to pop into the bridal shop she worked at and take her to lunch, maybe see if she could get the afternoon off and the two of you could have an old-fashioned girls’ day out. You knew it sounded cheesy, but you’d missed her, both of you too busy with other things to spend much time together.  

The shop hadn’t been busy, the owner gesturing to the back when you’d asked for Susan. You’d vaguely heard her muttering something about her being back there helping some guy for the last half an hour, but you figured it was most likely for a tux fitting or something like that. Except the second you’d come around the corner, you could hear the sounds of someone enjoying themselves immensely and you’d known that she was definitely  _not_  helping someone with a tux fitting. You’d stepped into the large room surrounded by smaller dressing rooms, expecting to find Susan in a dressing room with that cute guy she’d been dating, or maybe with her on-again, off-again boyfriend. What you hadn’t expected to see was Susan against the wall, right out in the open, her skirt up around her waist and your boyfriend’s head between her thighs.

The crash of the mannequin hitting the floor startled the two of them, drawing their attention to you, shocked, guilty looks on both of their faces once they realized who was standing in front of them. You turned and fled, the sound of their voices chasing you as you ran through the shop so fast everything was a blur. You hit the sidewalk, turning left at a dead run.

You’d run two, maybe three blocks, your breath tearing in and out of your throat, a stitch starting to form in your side, when you realized that someone was running after you. Figuring it was either Susan or your  _ex_ -boyfriend, you made a beeline for the park, hoping to lose whoever was following you in there. You hadn’t gone very far when you heard a deep, gravelly voice calling your name, a voice that most definitely did not belong to either of the people you were running from. You slowed to a stop, bent over, hands on your knees, trying desperately to catch your breath.

A pair of feet clad in heavy work boots stepped into your line of sight. You stood up, your eyes trailing up the guy’s jean clad bowlegs and thick, muscular thighs, over his waist to a set of muscled arms and broad shoulders. He was smiling at you, a pair of binoculars clutched in his hand. He didn’t even seem out of breath, despite the fact that he’d been running after you for several blocks.

“Who the hell are you?” you demanded. As attractive as he was, you sensed an air of danger around him.

“My name’s Dean Winchester,” he said calmly. “You don’t know me, but I need to talk to you about your necklace.” He pointed at the pendant around your neck.

You grabbed the necklace, a gift from your grandmother, between two fingers, holding it up. You clutched it in your fist and took two steps back, suddenly nervous, wisely distrustful of the man in front of you.

“It’s not what you think,” he said. “That necklace, it’s cursed.”

“Cursed?” you muttered. “No, no, it’s my good luck charm.”

“Except, maybe it’s not,” Dean said. “Can you think of one good thing that has ever happened to you when you were wearing it?”

Your brain shifted involuntarily as you tried to think of a good reason the necklace could be considered a good luck charm. The day your grandmother had given it to you, you’d tripped on the stairs and broken your arm, you’d been wearing it the day you’d totaled your car, and the day you’d lost your job, and the day your cat had run away. And you were wearing it today.

You glanced down at the necklace enclosed in your fist. With a sharp tug, you yanked it off. Despite your distrust of the man standing in front of you, you held out your hand, allowing him to take it. Relief flooded you.

“Th…thanks,” you stammered.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, dropping the necklace into a small box with strange symbols on it. “Feel better?”

“Actually, yeah,” you said. “A lot better.” You smiled tentatively at him, noticing for the first time the unusual, yet beautiful, green color of his eyes.

“Good,” he smiled. “Rough day?”

“Yeah, a little,” you answered. “But it’s getting better.”

Dean nodded. “Well, take care of yourself,” he muttered as he turned to go.

“Hey, Dean?” you said, stopping him. “It is Dean, right?”

“Yep,” he smiled.

“Can I buy you a beer? To say thank you?” you asked. “I’m not sure what I’m thanking you for, but I just…just feel like it needs to be done, you know?”

“I do,” he said. “And yes. A beer sounds great.”


End file.
